Conversing
by DimeStreet
Summary: When Tony is alone and losing chess to Jarvis, he is interrupted by a thoroughly unexpected guest. Pre-friendship Tony/Loki, and could be seen as pre-slash.
1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing Tony regretted about his life, it was programming Jarvis to play chess. It was a stupid thing to do, after all, since the AI was supposed to be paying attention to the perimeter of the house, keeping track of all his information, and making sure the diagnostics (that were currently taking place) were running smoothly. Then again, he thought as his ego took another hit, Jarvis wasn't exactly breaking a sweat.

He had played 52 games. It was a much larger number than he expected, but that was probably because he kept quitting and restarting three moves in. Someone once told him that you could tell whether you were going to win or lose after making just three moves. Judging by his track record, the theory held weight. 52-0. At least he hadn't programmed Jarvis to gloat.

Not that that was really stopping him.

"Would you like to play again, sir?" It wasn't technically possible for him to sound smug, but damn did he manage it.

"Yeah." Tony threw the rest of his scotch against his throat, and grimaced as it stung on the way down. Maybe the alcohol was impairing his ability to think strategically, but he hadn't started drinking until he'd reached the 30 mark. It was just...pathetic. He moved his center pawn two spaces forward, frowning as Jarvis's knight rushed to meet it. Not even a second. He'd sit there for ten minutes contemplating what to do, and Jarvis just sprang up. It was unfair. "You know," he began, as he moved another pawn. Useless. "-since I created you, I've technically won all these games."

"Of course, sir." Jarvis rang out patiently, but amusement tinged the words in ways it shouldn't. It only took five more moves for Tony to give up and restart. He just needed to win one game. The diagnostics would take another half hour to finish (approximately), and he really didn't want to waste any more time on such a stupid, insufferable game. He poured himself another glass, silently thanking every deity he could think of that he was alone during this shameful time.

And, of course, he wasn't. One of the deities that hadn't been fortunate enough for a mention in his gratitude made his presence known by a low chuckle. Tony swung, eyes rushing to adjust to a world beyond a flat computer screen. When they finally registered the figure approaching, he quickly made to press the button that would alert his fellow Avengers. Being alone with Loki was never good. Last time he'd had the pleasure, he'd been swung through a window.

The god made a lazy gesture with his hands, and the entire room flickered. The engineer knew even before his index finger slammed against the button that his call wouldn't be heard.

"I am in no mood for more company."

"Oh, what a coincidence." Tony responded, unconsciously rolling his chair closer to the desk. He only noticed the action when his elbow touched the counter. "I'm actually doing the whole 'solitude' thing tonight, so can we rain-check the play date?" Loki crinkled his nose in a way that suggested he didn't understand half of the statement. Tony figured he should have known- if Thor didn't understand anything he said, his brother probably wouldn't, either. Loki ignored his comment, and continued in his stride.

"You are very poor at this game." Tony raised an eyebrow, twisting to face the screen. The 53-0 score in the corner of the glass blinked at him, and he shook his head.

"No, the object of the thing is to get as few pieces as possible. It's like Uno, or golf." Loki smirked as if he knew very well what the object of the game was- but he didn't contradict Tony's claim.

"You are alone." Tony felt a creeping sensation traverse up and down his spine.

"No," he lied easily. "-didn't you hear Jarvis? Jarvis, say 'hello'." The room was silent. His brows furrowed, and his heart seemed eager to DJ a rave. It pounded ferociously in his chest. He almost imagined that he felt it thumping up against the metal of the arc reactor.

"Your machine presented a possible connection to your allies. I wished for no such connection." Tony smiled smoothly, but his limbs stiffened in anticipation of violence. He couldn't exactly get to his suit, and, apparently, Loki had figured out a way to make his computer as helpful as a wet rag. Although wet rags were helpful when cleaning a house, so the saying didn't really make much sense. Tony ended the tangent before it could become one. His computer systems, at the moment, were as useful as a wet rag when one's house is already clean.

"Lot of work to get to little ol' me. I'm flattered, really, but I've got plans already. I can maybe fit you in next week, but you know how it is- busy being me, and all. Do you have a Facebook? I'll send you a message, hit you up on chat." He was rambling, and he could feel his lips sputtering out nonsense, but he couldn't really stop them. He was stalling, basically.

Loki seemed content to watch him flail.

"-but for now I've really gotta get back to work. Company to run, world to save- but really, we should hang out sometime. Oh, hey! I've got an idea! If you really want to go grab a bite, I know this great place where you can get free meals every day for the rest of your life! I'll have to pull some strings, mind you, but you're worth it." He didn't so much run out of things to say as he ran out of breath to say it with. Loki arched one brow.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Only if you're about to leave. If not, then I've still got loads more."

"I'm afraid you are no longer in a position wherein you have the power to make me leave." Tony let out an exaggerated groan.

"When was I in that position?" Loki paused, cocking his head to the side.

"I suppose I misspoke- you never were. In this form, you are quite without leverage."

"Geez, make a guy feel special." Tony crossed his arms, letting one hand subtly slip into the pocket of his jeans. He felt for his phone, and hoped it still worked. "So, are you here to do anything other than insult my chess skills and insinuate I'm not so great without my armor?"

"I did not insinuate." Loki pointed out calmly. "It was quite clear to anyone with even mild intelligence."

"Okay, so, point taken. Now that you've proved yourself to be a dick even off the battle-field, mind explaining why you're here? If you're here to kill me, I guess you're pretty close. The boredom is practically strangling me. But I promise that there are more efficient techniques." His fingers rushed through the familiar movements, and he tried to imagine the keyboard. If he were as awesome as he'd always proclaimed himself to be, he'd just sent Clint a message demanding the immediate assistance of the Avengers. And, yes, he _had_ bothered to type out 'assistance'. 'Help' made him sound like a damsel in distress, which was definitely not a look he wanted to explore.

"I am not interested in battle." Loki finally said, watching him with a keen eye that Tony figured was suspicion. "Were I eager for bloodshed, I would have allowed you your armor. There is no honor in murdering a mere mortal as he drinks in solitude. Without your armor, you are no more a threat to me than any other human on this pitiful planet."

"Yeah." Tony stated flatly. "We covered that."

"I am more interested," Loki continued. "-in conversing with you."

"Conversing." Tony repeated the word slowly. He was, to say the least, a little doubtful. "Excuse me for not jumping for joy, but you're not exactly known as the truthsmith. Plus, as enthralling as I am, I don't see why you'd want to talk to me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm actually one of the guys that beat you. People generally prefer talking to friends. Or do you have tea parties with mortal enemies on Asgard?" Loki's lips thinned in annoyance.

"You annoy me."

"Weird. Usually enemies never annoy each other. Listen, unless you're here to give an unconditional surrender, we have nothing to discuss." Tony tried very, very hard to keep his voice steady. Even a small tremor might let Loki see his boisterous responses for what they were: complete bullshit. But as long as he played the part, maybe the guy would treat the situation with a bit of caution. And, maybe, he'd live long enough to see the Avengers burst into his lab. Tony had no interest in dying with a losing score on his screen. Knowing his luck, that's what would be engraved on his tombstone. Right there next to the 1965-2012. _53-0. _

"Stop speaking, son of Stark." Loki's voice was cold. Tony disregarded the fear that tickled at his brain.

"Okay, there's the problem. You don't understand the fundamental requirements of conversing: it necessitates talkin-" It was, predictably, the most terrifying thing short of actual violence. When he was thirteen, he'd had strep throat and tonsillitis at the same time. He'd been unable to speak for almost a work-week. It had nearly killed him to keep his opinions to himself for that long. Beyond technology and sexing up random strangers, Tony Stark was known for one thing: talking.

He might have looked more terrified than he had any right to, as his hands leapt to his throat in silent protest. Loki watched, almost amusedly, as he came to grips with the fact that he apparently had a mute button. It was not pleasant. Face squat in annoyance, he quickly spun and began typing, letting the chess screen fizzle into irrelevance.

As expected, he had no access to the outside world. But he did have access to a useless sort of program that read out anything that was typed.

"I believe you have been woefully ill-informed about what it takes to hold a conversation." The voice sounded disjointed and monotone. Loki, looking surprised by it, let out a small laugh, and waved his hand. Tony felt the change in a strange way, and mumbled out a few syllables to make sure. His throat felt raw and unused, as if he had been silent for hours, despite that only a few moments had passed.

"Let's not do that again." He cringed inwardly at the crack in his voice. It was hard to sound casual and not-freaked-out when one's voice needs practice.

"Had you not forced my hand, it might have been avoided completely." Tony didn't really know how to respond to that, so he crossed his arms again and watched his visitor. After a few moments of silence, he raised an eyebrow.

"Well? You shut me up. This is the part where you get to talk." Loki grinned at the admission. It was a predatory grin, and certainly not one that put Tony at ease.

"I am happy to see you have learned your place." And, well, that just set Tony off. It's one thing to magically mute a guy, to break into his house and turn off all his security measures, but you don't say 'learn your place'. It's just rude. "Now, then, we shall commence with the busin-"

"Oh, silly me. I just remembered: I don't take orders from extra-terrestrial nutcases bent on world-domination. Gosh, I'm just so scatter-brained sometimes." It was technically a bad plan (maybe dumb and just a tad bit suicidal), but Tony had never been one to handle intimidation well. He leapt to his feet, adrenaline thumping through his veins, as he half-rolled/half-threw his chair against the god, and made toward the suit currently undergoing diagnostics. Sure, he couldn't exactly put it on, but he _could_ utilize the arm that shot lasers. Which would be helpful.

Incredibly, the really-dumb-and-suicidal plan was successful. He yielded the arm, and aimed it at the god with proud terror. Naturally, only the pride shone through.

"That was not an intelligent course of action."

"In case you haven't noticed, I've got an arm-shaped gun pointing at your chest. I'm not concerned about the plan anymore, because it _worked_." Loki didn't respond immediately.

"Are you quite certain your armor still works, Son of Stark? How have you come upon such a conclusion, when the majority of your laboratory disregards your instructions? Even your communication device has denied any assistance." Scarlet threatened to burn Tony's cheeks off, but he wasn't quite sure whether it was because of anger, fear (the Avengers weren't coming; not good), or just humiliation that his plan had been found out.

"Somehow I doubt very much that you've got control over the suit," Tony sneered, deciding to ignore the fact that his morale was just as low as his chances of surviving this encounter. "-but maybe you'd like to give it a go?" He tilted the arm slightly, and Loki's minor shifting made his position on the idea evident.

"I did not come for violence." He finally stated, sounding vaguely offended.

"Yeah, but then you basically sowed my lips shut." Okay, he'd heard some myths as a kid and that was probably a low blow (if a phrase like 'low blow' can even be used when you're talking about something said to a psychopathic alien who'd tried to enslave and/or murder everyone on Earth). Surprisingly, Loki didn't seem affected.

"You were being exceedingly frustrating."

"If you weren't looking for frustration, you shouldn't have come to me." Loki gave a slight nod at that, the sides of his lips twitching up.

"I suppose so." He waved his hand, but it seemed more of a gesture than a spell-casting maneuver. "Sit. I have not come to harm you, but any offense against me will force a reevaluation of my intentions."

"I won't shoot if you don't," Tony responded. He wasn't about to sit down and trust the megalomaniac, but he was feeling better about his chances of survival. Oddly enough, the demi-god didn't seem to have much interest in murdering him. Unless it was a trick. Which it probably was. Fuck.

"Very well. Your distrust was..." A pause. "-not unexpected." Tony waited for him to speak, his arms beginning to tremble beneath the weight of the metal. It didn't weigh that much- maybe twenty, thirty pounds- but continuing to hold it was a pain. He rested his elbow against the counter in a way that he hoped didn't project weakness. By the gleam in those green eyes, he'd failed miserably.

"Well?" He snapped. "At this rate I'll die of old age. That's a thing mortals do, by the way, so you might wanna speed it up." Loki gave a slight nod, amusement still painted on his sallow face. Tony felt a reasonless sense of embarrassment, and fought to keep his eyes off the floor.

"I have come to converse with you."

"You mentioned that part." Tony interrupted, with a 'yadda-yadda' sort of tone. "Get on with it. What does 'converse with you' mean in super-villain terms?".

"I will not have you interrupt me." Tony was reminded by the haughty indignation in his tone that he had, at some point, been high-ranking royalty.

"Yeah, well, I'd prefer you not break into my house and threaten me, but I guess life isn't all that fair, huh?" He considered calling him 'princess', but quickly disregarded it as childhood memories of Han Solo came to mind. Sure, demeaning names were fun, but thinking of Loki in a metal bikini only brought forth nauseas feelings. Well, mostly. He was struggling to hide a snicker behind a resolute expression when a spasm of pain wound its way up his leg.

Was that a Charley horse?

"You'll excuse the lårhøne." Loki's voice was cold, but there was definitely amusement in there as Tony fought to remain upright. "I request that you place down the weapon, and sit."

"Well, I request-" The pain was now more pronounced, and not just an annoying setback.

"Excuse my earlier phrasing. I _command_." Tony ignored the pain that was steadily climbing, locking his calves into a paralyzed cramp. The arm was, of course, open for his tinkering, so the emergency manual buttons were exposed. Figuring that now was as good a time as any to blast the demi-god until he took the hint that he wasn't totally welcome, Tony jabbed his index finger down.

Now would probably be a good time to explain why Tony was working on his suit. Earlier that afternoon- well, technically the previous day as it was currently 4:05 in the morning- the Avengers had been called to Central Park to fend off a few dozen doombots that were terrorizing innocent park-goers- picnickers, joggers, children, old people feeding pigeons: the things had no qualms with blowing them all up. So the Avengers did what Avengers do. Natasha shot them, Clint perched and blew them up remotely with well-aimed arrows, Bruce turned green and smashed anything that shined, Thor banged on stuff, and the Captain swung around his mighty shield. And Tony joined in as Iron Man, and did what he could.

And everything went alright until one lucky doombot ripped a tree out of the ground, and used Tony for batting practice. He crashed through a few more trees, made a sizable ditch, and then suffered through the rest of the fight with sparking limbs. His right arm in particular had collected enough damage to require some major fixing-up, as it kept jamming and sparking and doing generally worrying things.

And we're back.

The limb (which, had it finished its diagnostics, Tony would have known required some serious work) collected energy.

"You can take your command and shove it up your-" Tony was interrupted for the second time in less than a minute. The arm made a low whining sound, and the blue energy which had been growing at its palm began to spark and widen. Tony realized what was going to happen just in time to toss it away and duck beneath the counter, bringing his legs (one of which was still hurting) against his chest.

The explosion racked the entire lab, and Tony's ears rang as he tried to focus. His main thought was moving away from the suit, which had enough explosives to destroy his whole house. Judging by the heat that was probably speeding its way through the suit (because, damn him, he'd left the arm open, leaving its innards exposed to the brunt of the explosion), there were many small missiles that were about to do their job.

He realized it was hopeless just about the same time that he realized his leg had a large piece of red metal stuck in it. In his shocked state, he registered that it was like a little flag settled in new territory. He shook his head and started crawling toward the room he'd built for Bruce. If the Hulk couldn't break the walls, he'd probably be safest there. It didn't seem to matter to him that the room was a floor above him.

When he finally remembered that past the haze of ringing ears, bleary eyes, and agonizing pain (the metal had landed in the leg suffering through a major Charley Horse, _of course_) he let himself pass out.

* * *

And, really, that should have been the end of the whole thing.

But of course it wasn't.

* * *

The thing he awoke to was the scent of charred hair.

It wasn't the first time he'd awoken to such a scent. A lifetime of scientific pursuits had left him with many burned-off eyebrows and goatees, and it wasn't too much of a surprise that he'd done it again. What did surprise him was that he was on a chair. Not the ground, not a bed: a chair.

If Pepper had found him, he'd either be in his bed or a hospital bed. If she hadn't, he'd be where he'd fallen: on the ground. A person doesn't catch on fire and stay seated. He shifted, and felt sore limbs protest. One, in particular.

"I regret whatever I did," he told Jarvis, but it wasn't the AI that answered.

"I am glad to know that you are capable of basic thinking." His eyes snapped open in horror, and his memories came crashing back as a small smirk greeted him. He nearly fell off of the chair as he jolted forward, but was pushed back with surprisingly gentle fingers. He opened his mouth to respond, but could think of absolutely nothing to say. He figured his brain would come to him, so, in the meantime, he checked his limbs with terrified interest. "They're all still attached." Loki drawled. "You might thank me for that."

"As soon as I make sure I'm not having a really freaky dream." Tony promised. He came upon his leg with a little trepidation, and could barely refrain from gagging at the ugly wound he beheld. It looked as if someone had hacked at his leg with an ax. He went to prod it, but Loki snapped his fingers away impatiently.

"Are you really so infantile that you must touch everything you see?" He chastised.

"It's my leg," Tony argued, but he was awake enough to admit poking around a wound was probably a bad idea. He finally sat back, then surveyed his lab. His counter was pitch black, and a few broken hunks of metal hung around it. One was actually embedded in it, a jagged slab of red metal that resembled a shark fin. All-in-all, though, the damage wasn't terrible. He finally wound himself back to his visitor. "Okay, you're doing a terrible job at killing me." He announced. Loki sighed, put-upon and ever-suffering.

"It was never my intention to kill you, Son of Stark." He paused, then added, "Today." Tony nodded his approval at the correction.

"Well, it was never my intention to let you." He blinked. That had sounded a lot better in his head. He frowned down at his leg, eager to shake off the blood-loss and get back to normal. How long had he been unconscious?

"Then we have both been successful." Loki returned, letting the lame response slip. That is, he didn't remark upon it. He'd certainly noticed Tony's wooziness and lack-of-one-liners (symptoms, no doubt, of something bad). "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'd love to call an ambulance. Oh, wait. I can't. Too busy being held hostage by a crazy alien." Now it wasn't so much fear that propelled the insults. It was simple crankiness and pain. Although, now that he'd finally grown used to consciousness, the fear was returning.

Shit. Now his situation glared at him clearly. He was wounded, alone, with Loki. No way to contact the team, no last-ditch plans that were suicidal to begin with and would end up being just terrible anyway. He was completely and utterly screwed.

"And by crazy-" he continued, wondering how to mend the problem. "-I mean completely sane." Loki arched a single brow. Okay, mending sucked. "Never mind, you're nuttier than a Payday bar on a good day."

" 'Payday bar' ."

"It's a candy bar with many nuts." Tony said matter-of-factly. "By saying that you are nuttier than it, I am implying that you're super crazy with a side of insane." He braced himself for whatever was coming. Better to die like a man than try to mend things like a man that has a filter between his mouth and his brain.

But Loki didn't make his brain explode, or send a massive Charley Horse galloping through his body. He just watched him with an amused expression on his face, halfway between confused and genuinely entertained.

"You interest me greatly, Son of Stark."

"And can we quit it with the 'Son of Stark' crap?" Tony demanded, deciding to press his luck just because he was alive to do so. "It's Tony, Iron Man, Mr. Stark, or pretty much anything else in the universe. Take your pick." Loki's eyes flashed.

"Is Son of Stark not accurate?"

"Asshole is accurate, too, but I'm not begging for that nickname either. Do you mind if I drink?" He spoke again before Loki could reply. "It's my house, why am I asking you?" He poured the dark liquid, glad that the decanter and glasses had only been chipped, and not shattered completely. Like, well, most of his computer screens. He hid a smirk as he drank. As long as the alcohol wasn't destroyed, who was he to complain? "Do you want some?" Loki raised an eyebrow, but nodded slightly.

Tony poured the drink before he could wonder why he was being hospitable. Hell, Loki hadn't killed him yet. That was reason enough. It's good to associate treats with not murdering people. Loki took the amber liquid warily, and watched Tony drink before he took a sip. Tony expected him to gag or cough, but the man simply pursed his lips slightly.

"It is not dissimilar to certain tonics in Asgard," he finally decided. "Though its potency is considerably duller."

"Duller?" Tony repeated, letting himself grin. "If you ever want to visit again, bring some of that and I won't try and kick you out." Loki smiled. It was wan, but sincere. It was much nicer, Tony decided, than the derisive smirk that usually adorned the man's face.

"I may do so." Tony considered telling him it was a joke, then decided that Loki would have to let him live to visit again.

"I'll find some non-chipped glasses for the occasion," he said with a wink. Loki paused, then frowned down at the billionaire's leg.

"You appear to have an injury."

"Geez, you must have been the Sherlock Holmes of Asgard. I'll call some doctors over after our one-on-one." Loki's smirk returned in full-force.

"It is nice to see you no longer believe this occasion to be the last in your life."

"Well, you didn't kill me when I was lying on the floor like a passed-out frat boy, so I've decided you probably have something way worse planned for me in the land of the living." Loki nodded.

"A reasonable expectation."

"And the absence of a denial is pretty much just an affirmation." Tony observed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His leg was pulsating. Despite that he'd come to believe Loki wasn't here to shoot him in the face, he still didn't want to show too much vulnerability. It was annoying as all hell to be a human around a demi-god.

"Once again, a rational conclusion." Loki sounded pleased. Tony had shut his eyes at some interminable point, but ripped them open in shock when he felt cool hands against his calf. Not just cool, either...Maybe it was because his leg was burning in agony, but the hands felt downright icy. Loki seemed concerned by his reaction. "I did not mean to cause you pain," he said swiftly. "-I meant to assist you." _Assist_, a small part of Tony repeated gleefully. Not help. He hadn't reached damsel-in-distress quite yet.

"Assist?" Tony felt sluggish. Maybe it was the blood-loss, the probable concussion, or the lack of sleep (unless you counted the ten minute catnap of unconsciousness). He was dreadfully confused.

"Your leg." Loki nodded down at the limb, which was oozing weird colors. It felt awful, and, while the cool actually had a soothing affect, Tony wasn't eager to have the demi-god stuffing his hands into his limbs. He'd probably put chattering teeth in there. It's never a good idea, he felt, to let the god of mischief operate on you.

"I'd prefer someone with a medical degree handle my insides." Tony protested, squirming away. But the gentle hands were back, now firmer than before.

"My skills will elicit far greater results than anything your pathetic physicians might do."

"By 'far greater', do you mean I'll have the leg of a murderer? Go around kicking puppies and children?"

"I mean you will continue to have a leg." Loki responded harshly. "And if you continue to writhe, I will bind you. Remain still."

"I don't particularly trust you." Tony stated bluntly. He could barely think anymore. The entire thinking process seemed a lot harder than it ever had before. He wondered whether drinking alcohol while a liter of his blood rested on his lab floor had anything to do with it.

The only real conclusion he got from the question was that he needed to get a mop and clean this up before Pepper found him.

"A wise decision, but one you should disregard at the moment. Even if you were able to contact your team, your leg requires immediate medical assistance."

"I could get a bionic one. _We have the technology_." He giggled wetly, surprised when he tasted copper. "Okay, I'm going to get another drink." He fumbled with the glass bottle, cringing when one of the chipped edges sliced the flap of skin between his thumb and finger. Loki looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes.

"If you have the capacity to do so, please resist accumulating further injuries until I am, at least, finished healing your leg."

"Where's your first aid kit?" Tony questioned. He brought the glass to his lips, and concentrated on the heat as it swam down his throat and then settled in his stomach. "And it's just a paper cut." Pretty much, anyway. He wound his hand into his t-shirt to stifle the blood loss.

"I am a god, Son of Stark."

"Demi-god. And Tony." Loki acknowledged his addition by tightening his grip on Tony's leg. The engineer resisted crying out in pain. He succeeded, letting loose only a thin hiss. "Okay, see, real Earth doctors wouldn't have done that." His voice shook, and he hated himself for it. Loki seemed to take pity, and he removed the pressure.

"I mean only to remind you who is in charge." He informed Tony. "As for your previous inquiry, I practice magic. I do not intend to utilize some primitive 'first aid kit'. So long as you hold still, your injury will be nothing more than a small pain in the future." He re-applied pressure, but with no hostile force this time. Tony felt himself begin to drift, and he willed himself to remain conscious. "You may succumb, Son of- Tony. The next few moments will be filled with much pain, and I mean to relieve you of it."

"Ah, the laughing gas of Asgard." Tony cringed a little as his leg protested to some movement of Loki's. "You know what, I'm good to take a KO for the team. Wake me up if I don't die."

When Tony woke up, he had only a vague recollection of anything after the explosion. He had the dim realization that he was probably only alive because Loki wanted him alive, and therefore opened his eyes very warily.

He'd half-expected the lab to be empty. But, no, Loki sat there. He watched Tony with sharp green eyes, as if absorbing every small facet of his enemy. When Tony shifted, obviously awake now, Loki's eyes flickered. He'd been in deep thought.

"Good morning, Man of Iron." Tony moved forward slowly, then tested his leg. It hurt like hell, but a glance down assured him that it no longer resembled a volcano, spewing out important bodily fluids. It was definitely going to have a harsh scar, but he'd never complained about bragging rights. Although, technically, the story of how he got it was a little embarrassing. But that was okay. He'd lie.

"Well, it didn't fall off when I was asleep. So." He was definitely grateful, but had no clue how to express it. After all, Loki had indirectly caused the injury. He couldn't exactly say, 'Gee, thanks, if it weren't for you I'd be dead!' because, technically, if it weren't for him he would have had a perfectly nice evening losing chess to Jarvis.

Besides, it wasn't as if he had much practice saying 'thank you' in general.

"Hungry?" Loki arched a brow. "For, y'know, food?" The demi-god shook his head.

"I do not require food as often as humans." Tony nodded, and pushed himself to his feet. His stomach lurched and he felt like throwing up, but his knees didn't buckle and throw him back, so he called it progress.

"Well, I'm starving. Sure you don't want some pancakes?" Loki had a small smirk on his face.

"If my host insists, it would be impolite to decline."

"Because you're all about manners," Tony agreed, but there was little hostility in the insult. He was too tired to be too malicious. "Come on up, then. Is Jarvis back online or am I doing this old school?"

"Your program is still disconnected." Tony inwardly groaned at that. He hadn't cooked real food in over a decade. Unless you counted that guess-what-I'm-dying omelet he'd made for Pepper, but that hadn't been very good.

"Well, then, we're skipping pancakes and having cereal. I'm a pro at making that." He forced himself toward the door, ignoring the way his stomach jolted. It felt as if it were on an elevator the rest of his body didn't know about.

"Are you well enough to prepare a meal?" Loki questioned dubiously.

"I get over bruises like this fast enough," Tony replied breezily. "As long as you don't make me dodge blasts of voo-doo while I'm pouring the milk, I think we're fine."

"My intention during this visit was never to instigate violence."

"Yeah, you might have said so once or twice. What was the point, though? If you mentioned it while digging metal out of my leg, I guess I forgot." Luckily (if one can call it that), the glass walls of the lab were completely shattered during the explosion. Instead of having to figure out how to open the doors manually, Tony just stepped over the broken shards. Loki followed suit, seeming amused by his disinterest in the damage.

"I was merely interested in conversing with you."

"Yeah, you mentioned 'conversing', too." The stairs were a serious obstacle, so Tony let Loki go first. "Royalty before looks." He allowed his limp to show itself as he dragged himself up the steps, concentrating on Loki's back. When the demi-god glanced back, he nearly tripped in surprise.

"You need not act so secretive, Man of Iron. The wound will take several days to fully heal." Tony ignored the actual meat of the statement.

"Didn't we agree on Tony?" Loki smirked.

"I was under the impression that any title in the universe other than 'Son of Stark' would suffice."

"Yeah, well, I guess we can add Man of Iron to the 'do-not-call' list. And what am I supposed to call you, anyway?"

"Your highness," he drawled. It took Tony a moment to realize he was joking and, when he did, he let out a coarse laugh. Loki, noticing a bit of difficulty on the final few steps, held out a hand. Tony gave him a quizzical expression, and Loki's jaw tensed. "I promise that my patience is not so great that I would suffer through your gawking much longer."

"Well, as long as you suffer through it for now." Tony responded, ignoring the hand in favor of the railing. Loki withdrew the extremity, his lips thinning into a smirk.

"After you. Youth before beauty."

"Not quite the saying, but you're closer than Thor ever is." Tony said, taking the lead a little worriedly. He didn't much like being unable to keep an eye on the guy. Luckily, Loki quickly matched his stride, and walked beside him.

"Ah, yes, my would-be brother. How fares he in the mortal world?"

"He likes our food and loves our women. And you? How do you like Earth? Granted, it's not much now, but this is the rainy season. Stay for summer, work on that tan. You're looking a little pale. Or, if you don't want to stick around, mind explaining how you even managed this vacation? Last I heard, you were being carted off to Asgard for a time-out." Loki's smirk widened, and he was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat: mischievous and unwilling to tell the whole truth and nothing but.

"It is of little importance. I believe you should be less concerned with my escape, and more concerned with what I do with my freedom." Tony breathed out heavily.

"Well, what you've done with your freedom so far just confuses me. You want coffee?" He began brewing the drink as Loki stood at the counter, observing his every move with an unreadable expression on his face.

"No. I had the misfortune of trying it on my first excursion to Miðgarðr, and am not tempted to repeat the experience."

"Weird; Thor loves it." Loki's mouth curled into a snarl.

"We are hardly similar."

"Not disputing that." Tony replied quickly, flashing a disarming smile. The last thing he wanted was an angry god with family issues in his kitchen, especially when he was this close to escaping safely. As the water boiled, he pulled out a few boxes of cereal and a jug of milk. "If you have high cholesterol, I suggest the Cheerios. If you have diabetes, I suggest not having Honey Smacks. Beyond that, go wild." Loki ignored the advice, and Tony quickly realized he expected him to serve him. "Also, as great a host as I am, you're still an enemy. Pour your own cereal. I'd make pancakes, but cereal is where I draw the line of feeding you." Loki seemed amused by the tirade, and promptly began pouring his chosen cereal.

Tony finally had the pleasure of sitting and figuring out what he was going to do. Oddly, Loki didn't seem as though he were going to murder him, or torture him, or do anything particularly villainish. And, as off-putting as that was, he was grateful. He felt as if he had a killer hangover (a mixture of magic and an actual hangover, probably) and really didn't have the patience for a devious plot. And God help him if Loki had an evil cackle- that would probably break his brain.

"What is the thing on your chest?" Tony leapt out of his mulling, before glancing at his shirt. He expected, at first, to see a fruit loop clinging to the cotton. But, no, Loki was referring to the object beneath the shirt, the metal embedded permanently in his chest.

"A t-shirt." He responded, careful to act aloof. He didn't really want Loki knowing an easy off-switch for Tony Stark, regardless of how friendly he was acting (well, not friendly, really, but civil). "It's like a long-sleeved shirt, but with short sleeves." Loki eyed him strangely, but he couldn't seem intimidating while stuffing himself full of Rice Crispies. Well, okay, he could, but the point stood that he wasn't exactly terrifying at the moment. Tony concentrated on his cereal, wondering after another bite whether his milk had gone sour.

"Initially, I was under the impression," the demi-god finally continued. "-that it was a part of your armor. But at your tower-"

"Yes, when you threw me out the window, I remember-"

"-it denied me access to your mind. And it is now quite clear that it is attached to you. I have seen no other mortals with such a device, however, and have become quite curious. Is it of your own design?" Tony paused. That much was safe, right?

"Yep. Made it a few years back to help charge the suit."

"But why affix it to your own being?" Time to improvise.

"Easy access. I figured it'd be better to have a power source than not have a power source. I'm a man of convenience." He grinned, and Loki nodded. He didn't know Tony well enough to doubt such a claim.

"Very interesting. What happens if it is removed?" He practically felt the blood rush from his face, but he fought to remain casual.

"I have one less power source on me. It's a bummer, but I have plenty more for situations where it dies or breaks." Loki nodded again, trusting because he had no reason not to. Eager to leave the topic behind, Tony questioned,

"Is that why you played sleepover? You were interested in this thing?" He tapped it, and Loki nodded.

"I was intrigued both by it and its creator."

"Well, we're both pretty fascinating." He stuffed his mouth full of Froot Loops, then, after a rough swallow, questioned, "So now that you've got the scoop?" Loki nodded, and stood, pushing away his empty bowl.

"I will take my leave. This has been a most engaging visit, but I have work to do."

"As long as that work doesn't involve murdering people, take that leave of yours." Tony encouraged, bobbing his head up and down. He was so close to safety (and, unfortunately, a debriefing) he could taste it. Well, technically, he tasted whole grain corn flour and sugar, but that was close enough to safety. Loki smirked, and it was a predatory expression with just a hint of mirth.

"As if you could stop me." Tony acted hurt.

"Did you not see my fantastic plan last night? I'm chock full of them."

"Well, do refrain from injuring yourself until I am gone. I have no interest in healing you again." Tony's heart was pounding, adrenaline shooting through his veins as he watched his guest approach the door.

"I'll try my best. Have a good one. See you next time I have to beat you up." He was speaking quickly, rambling almost- and then Loki was gone. He instantly grabbed his phone, and practically shrieked with joy when he saw the bars and the missed messages.

* * *

Clint rolled out of bed, nearly cracking his skull on the bed-side table in doing so.

"Shit."

"You alive?" Natasha's voice was sleepy, but still alert. She just jumped into the world of the living, didn't she? Clint swallowed the envy as he grappled for his phone.

"Almost." He rolled his eyes at the caller ID. "You can go back to sleep. It's just Tony." Tony was always calling at random hours with random things. He never slept, and seemed to think no one else did, either.

"'Kay." He heard the bed shift as she rolled back onto her side. He smiled, then shuffled into the hallway to take the call. He glared at his watch. It wasn't even six in the goddamn morning. Tony better be calling because he'd made him a suit and just couldn't wait to show him.

"I was sleeping."

"Neat; thanks for the status update. Know what I was doing all night?" He sounded way too awake.

"Ignoring the natural Circadian rhythm?"

"I was requiring some serious goddamn assistance." A pause. "Jarvis, that's not even remotely what I mean." Jesus. He'd called him before the sun even had the decency to crawl out of its hole so that Clint could listen to him argue with his robot.

Clint hung up in time to hear the engineer practically shout,

"I created you, so I technically won all of them!"

* * *

Okay, that's it. If it's a little iffy, I blame the lack of sleep. When a specific time was mentioned (4:05 AM), that was because that was the actual time I was writing it at. I figure this will stay a sleep-deprived one-shot, but if anyone is actually interested in more, I'd be happy for the excuse to expand it. Thanks for reading (and reviews would be cool).


	2. Chapter 2

Decided to expand (obviously). I don't know how long this story will be, but I guess I'll write until you guys get bored. My writing style kinda changed, and hopefully it doesn't make it _that_ bad. I figured that, if this were gonna be more than a oneshot, I'd figure out something that vaguely resembles a plot. Might get a little angsty in the future, but only a little.

Hope you like this chapter- we get to visit Loki's brain.

* * *

Three months had passed since the impromptu visit. Tony had been unable to sleep for a week, paranoid that Loki would take him up on his offer. Pepper eventually spiked his coffee after noticing the bags beneath his eyes and the jittery restlessness that comes along with only drinking things filled to the brim with caffeine. After sleeping for almost twenty hours, Tony decided paranoia didn't particularly suit him. He bulked up his security, shrugged off the fear and the distant pain in his leg, and decided to ignore the evening.

After three months, it was almost as if the whole thing had never happened.

Almost.

It wasn't as if Tony could just ignore that Loki had saved his life. Despite that he'd decided to disregard the night, he knew that that meant something bad had to be coming. If being rich had taught him anything, it was that people don't do things for you unless they have an ulterior motive. He hadn't figured out Loki's reasons quite yet, but he figured they'd become clear soon enough.

The debriefing had been a pain. The moment he'd mentioned Loki, Thor looked as if his puppy had come running home. No, more than that. He looked as if he'd had a puppy, it had been run over, miraculously returned to life, and _then_ came running home. He was positive that Loki had saved Tony's life because he was turning over a new leaf, regressing to the person that he'd been before. Tony didn't have the heart to tell him that Loki was still an insufferable jackass.

"We may have played doctor, but the guy is still a gigantic asshole." Gigantic asshole, he figured, had a better ring to it anyway.

That statement, predictably, led to an hour-long meeting where everyone stressed the importance of 'security' and 'communication', even though Tony knew that he wouldn't be able to 'communicate' very effectively once Loki set his mind to it, and 'security' was pretty much just an escape plan.

In other words, if Loki were to return (for whatever bizarre reason), Tony was pretty much screwed.

* * *

"Anthony Stark. I have need of you." Stark jolted, and turned. The engineer looked exceedingly tired, as if he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in his life. As he saw Loki, surprise and minor fear flooded into his eyes, before indifference glazed over them. Forced indifference, Loki figured, as the man's entire body was tensed into what seemed like a casual position.

"You do realize you could call ahead? I can give you my number." Loki let a smirk escape, but chose not to respond directly to the comment.

"I have need of you."

"So I've heard. Here, or upstairs? I should probably put new sheets on." Miðgarðr-humor. Loki had no patience for that today.

"I have recently set into motion something of dire importance. I require but one more piece to assure the success of my plans." Tony's brows were furrowed, curiosity now drowning out any fear for his life. He seemed to disregard danger the moment he found something interesting to latch that brain of his onto.

Loki had long heard of the infamous Stark's intelligence. He had investigated each of the so-called Avengers following his defeat at the battle nearly a year prior. It was Anthony Stark who drew his attention more than any other member. He seemed to posses a true intellect, one which surpassed the simple warrior traits Loki had seen during the fight. Most of the investigations led to lengthy 'exposés' on how much he loved sex. The reporters would go on and on about it. But all of the reports inevitably came to the same, unchanging conclusion: why, yes, he does love sex. It seemed pointless to Loki that they would continue 'exposing' the same story, but mortals seemed to have a small attention span.

Which was probably why the man was disregarding his work, and eying him with keen interest.

"You know, most villains monologue with more specifics."

"Indeed, and most find themselves bested because of it." A grin jumped onto Stark's face, and Loki was surprised by its sincerity. How the man found humor in the current situation was beyond him. But, then, it gave him slight pleasure that Stark was no longer cowering, or shooting at him. This visit seemed to be avoiding the unfortunate twists and turns which had characterized the previous one.

"Okay, you've learned your lesson. I guess it only took a Hulk to the head. So, what can I do for you?" He paused, cocking his head to the side. "And how illegal and immoral would it be for me to do it?" Loki smiled.

"I can assure you that I could have taken it without your permission. If your allies think badly of you for acting efficiently, that is of their concern, and not your own. You need not be injured." Tony snorted.

"Sorry, guys, I didn't wanna get a boo-boo, so I let him take the doomsday device."

"I believe you would not be able to retrieve your suit at this distance." Loki spoke carefully, watching his prey as he did so. Tony took a subtle glance at the row of suits against the wall. It was far too great a distance to cross, and he knew it just as well as Loki. He was too smart not to. "I doubt you would suffer only a minor injury were you to attempt to fight me without it."

"Well, luckily, you're honorable, and wouldn't fight me if I were helpless." Tony stated, and it was clear by his smirk that he was being sardonic. A little bitter, too, and Loki cataloged the information for another time.

"I am honorable enough to not come to your home for the express purpose of murdering you when you are unarmed. I am not above simply stealing from you. And should you attack me, your demise will come out of defense." Loki wouldn't actually kill Stark if he attempted to go on the offensive, but the man didn't need to know that. Loki didn't want to have to injure him at all. He hadn't come for battle.

"Great, they'll put that on my tombstone. So, what do you want?" He sounded a little more agitated now, and Loki nodded.

"The power source."

"The-?" The blood drained from the man's face, before he coughed slightly. "The power source. Which one? I've got a generator out back, a couple triple-As in the fridge, a-"

"The one which charges your suit," Loki interrupted, pointing at the man's chest. He'd attempted to research that, too, but there were few details available. Stark, apparently, kept most information about it well-hidden. Probably because it could be used for nefarious purposes. Such as, for instance, what Loki planned to do with it.

"I see." Stark coughed again, and Loki could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he fought to think of a reply. "Well, if you're asking politely, I'll have to politely decline." Loki lifted his staff, letting it tilt slightly. It gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights of the laboratory, seeming almost eager for bloodshed.

"It is a very good thing, then, that I am not 'asking politely.'" Tony eyed the staff with a raised brow.

"You got a new staff. Were they having a sale?" Loki didn't let the comment distract him.

"The power source, Stark. I should not like to have to retrieve it forcefully."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to." Stark paused, then stood. When Loki immediately lashed the staff forward, prepared for a physical confrontation, Stark's hands flew up in innocent defense. "Just getting a drink! Jesus." He strode past Loki purposefully, and the demi-god let him pass. With his communications once more offline and his suits too far to utilize, Stark was no threat. Still, Loki watched with rapt attention as the engineer tipped the decanter over his glass. With a small smirk, the guest realized that the glasses were still chipped.

"I was under the impression you would have replaced those."

"No time. Had to save the world from domination-obsessed psychos. But you know all about that." The wink was enough to strip the insult of any real hostility. There was something charming about Stark, a disarming nature that was probably dangerous.

"I will not be leaving without the power source."

"Yeah?" Stark brought the glass to his lips, wincing slightly as the alcohol within seemed to burn him. "Well, I'll be dead before you leave with it." Loki arched a brow.

"Do you truly believe yourself a threat?" Stark shrugged.

"I've beaten you before."

"By launching yourself through a portal. It hardly requires great fighting skills." Stark nodded a little at that, before finishing his glass. Loki was reminded of certain articles he'd found that denounced the engineer for his open 'alcoholism'. Apparently, certain mortals were so enamored with inebriation that they were unable to stop. Mortals were far more affected by the drinks than those of Asgardian (or Jötunn) birth, and often lost all ability to think coherently.

Loki had the strong and strange desire to see Stark unable to think, unable to speak cleverly. He had the distant urge to find the staff that had been stolen from him at the battle, and turn the dark eyes before him an icy blue. He shook away the ruminations, focusing only on the present. Let those thoughts return when he had the time to mull over them.

"Yeah, but I've made some additions to my lab since you visited last time." Stark responded, and his eyes were sharp. "You know what they say: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me- you can't fool me again." He winked. "That's topical humor. Well, not really topical- it's been a while- but it doesn't stop me from laughing." He was rambling, Loki realized. He'd done it before, during the first visit- but there was less urgency here, less fear. He was _stalling_.

"What trickery is this?" Loki demanded, as his thin lips rushed into a scowl. Stark seemed surprised by the sudden ferocity, but quickly rebounded.

"Trickery? Me? No way. You're the trickster, here." And it was only now that Loki noticed the fact that the distance between them had grown. As Stark drank and spoke, he'd steadily been approaching the door. Loki's grip on the staff tightened, suspicion and anger growing within him.

"Return to your seat, Stark, or I shall use force to make you."

"I've been sitting all day," Stark responded. "-I'd rather stand."

"Your preferences matter very little to me."

"Well, at least they matter a little-!" Stark leapt to the door as he shouted, "Protocol Let There B Light!" The entire lab was suddenly flooded with brightness, as every light came to life. Loki let out a small grunt of surprise as he was momentarily blinded. His grunt disappeared in moments, however, to be replaced by a snarl of anger. His swept his staff forward and back, and the sound of shattering glass filled the laboratory. Cloaked in darkness, Loki's eyes took a moment to adjust. Predictably, Stark was nowhere to be found. He'd made his escape during the few precious seconds it had taken Loki to react.

"A very foolish course of action." He hissed, knowing that Stark could not hear him. He swept toward the door, which had, most likely, opened as part of the protocol. It made sense that Stark had prepared for another visit- especially as he'd invited him back- but tendrils of anger still wrapped around Loki's very being at the contingency plan's execution. He let a smile rush onto his face, however, as he realized that the escape had occurred purely out of Stark's worry for the power source. Its strength was assured by the measures to which Stark had gone to protect it.

* * *

Okay, shit.

Those two words were pretty much all Tony thought as he clambered up the staircase to his living room. An occasional 'fuck' was thrown in for good measure. He would have an angry, half-blind demi-god chasing after him any second now. He dashed toward the door, checking his cell phone as he ran. Nope. Still disconnected from the rest of the world. He wondered how far he'd have to go to get back-up.

"Stark." Had the guy really gotten out that quickly? It had been less than twenty seconds. Tony slid to a stop and turned, plastering on a huge smile.

"Oh, you're still here?" Loki did not look amused. A little triumphant, maybe, but not amused.

"I desire the power source."

"Kinda using it at the moment." How had Loki figured out how important the arc reactor was? It wasn't as if Tony went to interviews talking about how it was pretty much his personal set of batteries. He'd always stressed the technological advantages of the thing, and rarely (if ever) delved into what it did for his actual body. He'd let internet forums speculate about that, their conspiracy theories being cast aside as silly and unfounded by the general populace.

Or, maybe, Loki just needed a strong power source?

Yeah, okay, that was unlikely.

Shit.

"I require it." Tony nodded, even as he drew closer to the door.

"Yeah, for the taking-over-the-world-gig. I sympathize, really, I do, but-" Okay, now or never. "Protocol Let There A Light!" As light splashed around the room in a dazzling display of what money can do, Tony wrenched the door open and dashed. He'd kept his keys in his pocket for three months, and accidentally sleeping on them, sitting on them, and falling on them was about to pay off. He leapt into the front seat of the convertible, and stabbed the key into the ignition. He heard the door open just as the car pealed out of the driveway.

Every once in a while, Tony was thankful that he was rich. Not that he wasn't happy about it most of the time, but there were days when a sudden flash of appreciation came when something occurred that being poor would have prevented. The first time he'd slipped into a jacuzzi with three supermodels and a professional burlesque actress (who occasionally worked as a bra model (size advertised: DD)), he'd had the flash of gratitude. The time he left a three-hundred-dollar tip at a dirty pizza parlor because the waitress was cute (she came home with him), he'd had the flash of gratitude. The time he'd purchased a restaurant just to fire the bartender because he'd been asshole-ish, he'd had the flash of gratitude.

Tony had that flash of gratitude now, thankful that he didn't own some crappy car that would have stalled inconveniently in the driveway, as if he were in some B-horror movie.

"Okay." He breathed slowly, attempting to calm his racing pulse. As he pulled onto the highway that curled around the cliff, he tore his cell phone out of his pocket. "If you don't work, _I will throw you into the ocean_." He glanced to the right, as if to make sure the water was still there. The horizon was at some interminable point in the far distance, the night sky melding with its own reflection. When his cell phone refused to cooperate- calling his bluff-, he sighed, and tossed it into the passenger seat.

There was movement after he did so, and, almost as if in shock, he turned to look.

"Jesus fuck!" The car careened to the left, nearly crashing into the thin fence which was all that lay between the highway and a watery grave. He slammed his foot against the brake, and cried out in surprised pain as his head slammed against the steering wheel. A single, piercing honk was emitted, before he sagged back against his seat. He realized distantly that he hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, and, had the stop been just a bit more sudden, he would have flown over the hood and into the water. He would have done Loki's job for him. Way better, too, considering the guy was killing him in a very roundabout way.

"I feel it is safe to assume you were unaware of my teleporting capabilities." Loki- damn him-sounded amused. It wasn't even just his tone- he was practically _grinning_.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "You forgot to mention that."

"Are you quite finished attempting to run?"

"Um." Tony glanced to his left: a barren ocean. To his right: a large rock wall (he'd always skipped the plastic-with-a-harness rock walls at carnivals, and therefore wasn't about to try and conquer _that_ behemoth). Ahead of him and behind him: just the long and winding road. It was miles to any place that could be of help. The isolation of the house was one of the things about it which Tony loved. Well, not at the moment, obviously. At the moment, it totally sucked. Loki arched a brow, and Tony waved him away. "Just a sec. I'm looking for an escape plan. Be patient. It'll come to me."

Loki sighed heavily.

"I believe it would be easier if you would simply cede to me the power source."

"I'm not just gonna give up. If you're waiting for me to give you permission, I suggest taking a parka with you when you go to hell." That one was a little convoluted- not to mention that Loki had most likely never even heard the saying- but Tony figured to hell with simple. He was going to die, wasn't he? Why not make his last words a mouthful? Loki furrowed his brows.

"Very well. I would prefer that I not take it by force, but you have made your position clear." With that, he leaned forward and ripped Tony's shirt open. Tony gasped at the sudden cold that leapt at his uncovered chest and abdomen, and reflexively closed his arms about the hole. Loki dismissively shoved them away, and the engineer was surprised by the sheer strength of the action. It was a sudden and unwelcome reminder that Loki and Thor were technically-but-not-really brothers.

"Call me a prude, but you don't get access to the chest until the third date-" Tony choked out, as fear and chilliness stabbed at every piece of him. The ocean breezes that drifted this high had lost any semblance of warmth, reverting to the cold nature of those winds which sliced through mountain ranges.

"Be silent." Loki responded sharply. "How do I remove it?"

"Well, you're not supposed to-" Tony replied, because he wasn't about to tell his assassin how to shoot a gun. "-and wasn't I supposed to 'be silent'?" Loki growled, clearly annoyed that killing him was turning out to be such a hassle. Honestly, the billionaire didn't know why he didn't just use a gun. Probably not god-y enough. A second Loki was suddenly holding his arms, as the original peered at the arc reactor.

As his hand covered the light in preparation of pulling it out, the world grew much darker. The smashed headlights- though they tried their damnedest- just couldn't help.

* * *

The light was surprisingly warm, and Loki wondered distantly whether it was uncomfortable. A glance at Stark promised that the engineer wasn't about to divulge any information on how to remove the device safely. Even as his teeth chattered and his limbs struggled against Loki's grip, his face was twisted into a glare. His legs thrashed in one final attempt to pull free, but Loki swiftly quelled the rebellion.

No more delaying.

His slender fingers curled into the grooves of the metal, and he tugged until he felt the resistance dim. He eventually found that it required some twisting, followed by a single strong pull. Stark's upper body followed the cylinder as it was removed, and his mouth curled into a silent gasp of agony. When the attached wires fell, Stark's body sagged back against the seat.

Loki frowned down at the warm metal, tilting his hand so that it would roll slightly. It was much larger than he'd anticipated. The gaping hole in Stark's chest seemed unnatural and impossibly deep. He noticed that the struggles had ceased, and absorbed his copy. Stark stared up at him with glazed eyes- glazed eyes that seemed suddenly indifferent to their surroundings.

"Stark?" No witty reply. No reply at all. Loki's brows furrowed. Had he removed the power source incorrectly? If it were embedded that deep, a wrong move could prove potentially fatal. He pressed his fingers against the man's forehead, letting his healing magic flush through to ascertain how great the damage was. The result was instantaneous, and his finger was nearly burned by the fast response. A small piece of his brain diagnosed the difficulty. Hjertestans- cardiopulmonary arrest.

Stark was dying.

Anger sped through his veins. Had Stark simply cooperated, he would not have been injured. It was his stubbornness which caused the danger he was in. Loki tried to ignore the anger that was not directed at the engineer, the anger which demanded why he had failed so thoroughly at removing the power source. He slammed his fist into the dashboard, gaining some small satisfaction from the damage. Violence, though technically abhorrent, was quite helpful for relieving stress.

"Hey-" Stark choked out. "-hands off the car." His voice trembled, and it was clear that to speak meant to suffer. However, it was also clear that he was capable of speaking if he'd chosen to make a joke. Why had he refused to reply before?

"You are in cardiac arrest." He chose the colloquial term, refusing to waste precious seconds. No doubt Stark had planned for occurrences such as these.

"Yeah." A short pause, used to take short breaths. "I noticed."

"Well?" Loki snapped. "Would you prefer that I leave you, or do you wish to reveal how I might aid you?" Stark smirked, but his face was pale. Cold sweat clung to his furrowed brows, and his jaw was tense.

"Yeah. Funny." Loki nearly left at that, but he refused to let himself do so. Stark was terribly interesting, and to let him die meant to lose a chance to satiate his curiosity. And there was something inherently appealing about the man- he did not deserve to die, here, his own body rebelling against him. Loki was by no means a man who acted out of honor alone (cunning often took precedence over mercy), but letting Stark die in such a manner was low even by his standards.

"Are you to claim there is no way to revive you?" That such a possibility scared him was tremendously annoying.

"Can you quit it? You killed me, congrats, way to go." He was definitely fading, and Loki realized that his time to act was growing slim.

"Your death was never intended. Had you simply shown me how to remove the power source correctly-!" He was shouting, then, but he fell silent immediately when Tony's lips moved again.

"Wait, you seriously still think-?" He let out a hoarse chuckle. "Shit."

"What?" Loki despised being ignorant. Thor and his friends had many 'inside jokes' he had never been privy to, and it had always bothered him to hear them laughing when there wasn't a punchline readily available. So where was the punchline here?

"I might've fibbed, a little-" Tony's eyes were focused on some object not in this world, and Loki felt himself grow impatient. He grabbed the torn edges of the man's shirt, jolting him back from the shadow of unconsciousness that threatened to engulf him. "The reactor-" His voice was drifting off, as though Loki had rudely awakened him and he was returning to whatever fine dream had been interrupted.

The engineer was unconscious before Loki could do anything.

Cursing beneath his breath in some foreign and unintelligible tongue, the demi-god considered his circumstances. Stark was dying- so close, now- and he had inadvertently caused it. Some childish part of him threatened a tantrum. He hadn't meant to, it wasn't his fault. It was Stark's, for being so stupidly stubborn. At what point does bravery turn to simple foolishness?

"The reactor," he repeated, frowning down at the object. What had the man meant to say in those final few breaths?

He considered leaving. Let the world suffer through the mystery of Stark's death. Let the world know what foolishness will bring them during Loki's reign. Let the world mourn the death of one of its best, and know that none can stand against him.

But the thought was brief, and he dismissed it as quickly as it had come. Since the battle, Stark had remained an interesting object to mull over. If he were ever to retrieve the other staff, he would overtake the engineer, and enjoy conversations with him. He was too intelligent to dismiss, too interesting to kill.

Finally, in a strange and unreasonable action, he pressed the dark reactor back into its hole, connecting it to its wires and twisting it back in place. Like a child, pushing the broken pieces of a toy together in the hopes that it might click and be played with again. His brows raised in surprised interest as the blue light flickered back into life, and the body gasped its way back with it. Stark came alive with a wild grunt, eyes bright and wide.

"Holy shit." He frowned around at his surroundings, brushed his hand against his wet brow, and collapsed back into his seat. "You are really annoying."

"You are quite incapable of expressing gratitude." Loki retorted, but he couldn't hide the relieved smile.

* * *

Tony tried to ignore the predatory grin on the other man's face, focusing on adjusting to the land of the living. He'd read, once, that up to 20% of people who lived through a cardiac arrest reported near death experiences. He hadn't floated out of his body, or suffered through a clip show of his greatest hits. He hadn't even seen the light he wasn't supposed to go to. Granted, he didn't technically believe in life-after-death, but he'd always liked hallucinations. That he hadn't gotten any was a bit of a bummer.

Okay, yeah, he had to get his priorities straight.

"Well, I'm much better about saying 'thank you' when the people that save my life aren't the same ones that endanger it." Not really, but Loki didn't have to know that, did he? Either way, he looked skeptical. "Well, what do _you_ know." Tony sighed heavily, and leaned his head back. He was exhausted. Like, run-a-marathon-on-an-hour's-worth-of-sleep exhausted. "I can't believe you didn't mean to kill me."

"Had I been informed of the power source's true purpose, I might not have made the mistake." He sounded a little indignant.

"Well, I wasn't about to tell you I had an on-and-off switch."

"A curious sacrifice for a mere power source. Are you unable to simply attach it to your suit?" Tony blinked, momentarily confused by the question. Once he grasped what Loki thought, he frowned a little.

"I, uh, actually had this before the suit." And why was he coming clean, exactly? He hadn't even told the rest of the Avengers the exact origins of the Arc Reactor (though Natasha most likely knew, and Clint had probably been made aware through her- pillow talk with agents like them tended to get pretty non-pillowy). One shouldn't play therapy with a crazy murderer. That was pretty much an unspoken rule. Actually, knowing Fury's paranoia, it was probably written in some rulebook. It would be after this, anyway.

But he'd nearly died. He needed a heart-to-heart, as his was severely busted. He frowned up at the demi-god. But how much better was Loki's?

"For what purpose?" Loki questioned, and the expression on his face professed a desire to learn and understand. He was insanely curious. And that was probably what stopped Tony from saying any more about the matter.

"I needed a flashlight. Help me up." The god quirked a brow, but lent his hand so that Tony could pull himself into a seated position. "Now, do you want something to eat, or can you just go?" Loki paused.

"I am hungry."

"Please don't make this a tradition." Tony twisted the key, heartened by the cheery humming of the motor. Smooth, quiet, and beautiful. God, he loved cars. "And if I drive us off a cliff, teleport us both out, not just your selfish ass." Loki was wearing a smirk.

"Of course."

"Good." The car sped down the highway, and the cool air rushing through Tony's hair helped him stay awake, even as weariness threatened to swallow his entire body. He doubted he should be driving (he sure as hell wasn't going to let a technology-deprived nutcase handle his car, though), but he also doubted that Loki would let them die after the stunt he'd just pulled. He had no idea why Loki had saved his life. Twice. What, exactly, did the guy want from him?

He decided to broach the subject subtly.

"So, what do you want from me?" Okay, he sucked at being subtle. But it was one of few faults.

Okay, one of many. Since when had his inner monologue pushed for such honesty?

"Pardon?" Loki seemed genuinely perplexed, and Tony had to push down the embarrassment that was welling up in his sore body. The man somehow made him feel as though his paranoia weren't completely justified, even though it obviously was.

"I'm asking what your game is." Tony stated, eyes firmly stuck on the road. If he glanced to the right, he'd lose focus. "You've saved my life twice, now, and I fail to see what it's gaining you. I'm not gonna trust you just because you decided to stick what you stole back where it belonged, so, if that's what you're aiming for, I have to think your proclivity for scheming is way overrated." Except he wasn't so terrified of Loki anymore, and he no longer considered himself in danger even though he was less than fives inches from his side. His jaw tensed. Regardless of how he perceived Loki now, he couldn't act as if he were anything but distrustful. The god was all about manipulation- that was his schtick.

And Tony didn't want to admit he was falling for whatever deception the frost giant was playing at.

"I don't know." Tony turned, surprised. But Loki's face was unreadable, and his tone neutral. Tony jolted back to attention when the car began to sway dangerously near the fence, but he remained silent, expecting more. When it was clear there would be no additions, he questioned,

"That it?"

"I am unsure what else to say," Loki admitted. "I came this evening for the power source. I was unaware that its removal would cause your death."

"So I've gathered," Tony answered dryly. "-what I don't get is why it matters." Loki's lips curled into a thin frown.

"And here I must repeat myself: I do not know." Tony nodded, absorbing the information dubiously. He didn't think he was quite so charming that he'd won over the god in the time span of, what?- one visit and one five minute conversation (that ended with him going through a window, and he wasn't going to forget that part, because, dammit,_ it was important_). Hell, he'd caused allies to despise him in less time, and, unless relationships with enemies were very different...

Well, you know.

"Well, let me know when you figure it out." He paused, licking his chapped lips as his house came into view. "So, you mentioned an evil scheme."

"I do not believe I used the adjective 'evil'."

"It was implied."

"I do not intend to monologue."

"I have a frozen pizza that begs to differ." Tony waggled his eyebrows energetically, but parked the car with tired deliberation. "Three different types. Do you like pizza?"

"I have not had it." Loki responded, as he watched Tony struggle to pull himself free from the driver's seat. "Do you require assistance?" Tony ignored the question.

"If you haven't had it, I'm not starting you off with frozen. That's, like, marriage. I'll get you the one-night stand of pizzas. I'm ordering in. Damn, I wish you'd decided to terrorize me in New York." He strode purposefully toward the door, letting his mouth ramble while his brain focused on not falling.

"You would prefer my visits-" It sounded as though he were emphasizing the term 'visits', as if trying to distance himself from 'terrorizing'. "-in New York?"

"Only when I'm in a pizza mood." The door was unlocked, and Tony gratefully pushed it out of his way. "But I'm gonna need to use a phone. If I promise not to use the S.H.I.E.L.D delivery service, can you remove your creepy leash on my tech?" Loki gave a bemused nod, and waved his hand absentmindedly as he sat.

On the same stool, Tony noticed, as last time. It was exceedingly weird, but he was going to start thinking of the chair as Loki's. There was no way he couldn't. And it wasn't as if Loki acted uncomfortable perched up there- he wore it like a throne.

The guy was royalty from the soles of his feet to his mullet-esque hair.

He shook off the tangent, and grabbed the receiver from its cradle.

"Okay, what do you like? Mushrooms, pepperoni, anchovies?" He crinkled his nose. "Please don't like anchovies." Loki's face indicated confusion. Tony realized that pepperoni and anchovies were very much Earth foods, and did they even have mushrooms in a galaxy far, far away? "Okay, never mind. We'll do classic. Trust me." After ordering a large cheese pizza (extra cheese) with pepperoni ("A whole cow's worth!" (and damn if Loki's face hadn't looked even more confused at that)), Tony replaced the phone, and sat. In the same seat as before.

They were falling into a routine.

"How long will it be?"

"Thirty minutes or they lose the highest-tipping customer in pizza history. Why? Your rule-the-world schedule pretty tight these days?"

"I have business to attend to," was the vague and painfully-ominous reply.

"Ah. I guess you have to find another thing to power your doomsday device." Tony cringed inwardly. Yeah. Remind him that not killing you will make his life harder. That's smart.

"I never claimed the power source would be for a 'doomsday device'."

"You never denied it either." Loki didn't bother denying it now, which made Tony a little nervous. But only a little, because the man hadn't immediately leapt to the time-to-kill-Tony conclusion. Loki paused.

"May I have a drink?"

"Oh, thank Jesus." Tony hopped to his feet, and sped towards the liquor cabinet. Pepper often teased him (or complained, he could never quite tell) about having one in every other room. But why, when you know you're just as likely to drink in your bedroom as you are in your living room, would you have only one? It would be a lot of useless walking.

He hadn't been lying when he'd told Loki that he was a man of convenience.

He poured them both a glass, then brought the bottle back. You could never go wrong with plain old scotch. Well, technically, a Highland Park 18-year-old single malt scotch. It was worth over a hundred dollars, though he'd gotten a bit of a deal by purchasing twenty.

"Weren't you supposed to be catering this event?" He questioned, as he placed the glass in front of Loki. The demi-god nodded a little.

"Perhaps next time."

"Oh, please don't tell me that you'll be ripping my heart out again." He sat down, and nursed his glass. Whether or not he had another fourteen to go, he wouldn't guzzle this.

"It is your heart?" There was that curiosity again, demanding to be satiated. He laughed a little, uneasy. Then again, fourteen was a large number. He took an especially large sip, letting the alcohol settle on his tongue before he swallowed. Dry. He'd always preferred dry to sweet.

"No, sorry, an inside joke." Loki's lips seemed to thin at that, and his back straightened just a bit.

"I see."

"If Jarvis were awake, he would have laughed." He frowned down at his glass. He'd poured nearly an inch of scotch. Where had it gone?

"Naturally." Loki paused. "Is it meant to aid your heart in some manner?" Tony frowned up at him, annoyed that the subject hadn't disappeared.

"Why're you so interested? You already know the important part." At Loki's blank expression, he elaborated, "How to get it out of me." He poured more scotch for himself, not noticing how Loki's had nearly gone untouched.

"I suppose that is all that should matter to me." Tony nodded in agreement. Had he bothered looking up from his glass, he might have noticed the perturbed expression on his guest's face.

"So, now that the pizza is on its way- probably breaking many speed limits, by the way; you'll like that seeing as how you're evil- care to explain why you need the thing in the first place?" Loki released a slim smirk.

"You avoid my questions and yet expect me to answer your own?" Tony nodded, plastering on an expression of exaggerated sympathy.

"Life isn't fair, huh, big guy?" He grabbed his glass and walked toward the sofa, waving at Loki to join him. "Besides, even if I'd written a whole instruction manual about this thing and given it to you, I really doubt you would have jumped at the chance to reciprocate."

"Perhaps you would like to see for yourself?" Loki responded, his smirk having grown into a small smile.

"Well, normally, I'm all for new experiences. But confiding in a super-villain is, surprisingly, not on my bucket list."

"I could simply torture you, were I interested in how it worked for nefarious purposes." Tony shook his head.

"You wouldn't do that." Loki arched a brow, eyes gleaming.

"And why is that?" Tony considered responding that it wasn't as if _he_ knew the answer, so why should Tony?

"It's boring. Manipulating a person into telling you everything is a hell of a lot more interesting than just dunking their head under water until they think they're drowning." Loki paused.

"Is that what you believe these meetings to be?" Tony shrugged.

"I'm just saying-" _that, having been in both of these situations, I know it's a possibility. _Ah, Obie and Afghanistan. Fond memories. A part of him was suddenly glad that the clip show had been skipped. "Just stating a fact."

"A cynical perspective."

"And probably a pretty accurate one. If you've been found out, you can still stay for the pizza. I wouldn't deny you that. I'm the good guy." Loki's smile was wan.

"Your theory, while plausible, is incorrect. I express only natural curiosity regarding the existence of something such as..." His eyes fell to Tony's chest. "...that."

"Well, you're in it for the long haul, I'll give you that." Tony tossed his glass up in a half-hearted toast, then swallowed the final sip.

Anything Loki might have said was cut short by a rapping at the door.

"Wow, their pubescent delivery boys must've started drag racing on the side. It's been, like, ten minutes." Tony pushed himself up from the couch, grabbing his long-discarded wallet from the table as he passed. He only had hundreds, but he figured the kid wouldn't mind. "Get ready to taste heaven, Reindeer Games. So much grease even your holy arteries will clog."

"And this is a good thing." Loki didn't sound convinced.

"Fine, be skeptical. But when you have a heart attack, you'll still thank me." Tony was removing the bill as the knocks came again. "If you were gonna be this impatient, you should've-" _obeyed legal limits_. That's what he was going to say as he opened the door to the pimply face of a delivery boy. But there was no pimply face to welcome him.

Just the clear (and exceedingly surprised) face of an Avenger.

* * *

And this is where you, the true believers, come in. Comment with who you wanna see behind door #1! I really appreciate all the reviews, favs, and story alerts. I still don't really know whether this'll be a friendship fic or a slash (there are, unsurprisingly, many people rooting for the latter), but I guess we'll all find out. Thanks again, and I hope you guys figure out who you wanna see, as I've got no clue who it is.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, this chapter is probably going to read a little differently, and that's because I've found a plot! It's up to you whether or not that's a good thing. We also get a lot of Bruce POV (and it was a close one: there were 9 votes for Bruce, 8 for Steve, 6 for Thor, and 4 for Clint. Poor Natasha), and hopefully I didn't screw him up too much. Sorry for the wait, and (if you're reading this) thanks for bothering to come back!

Also! **Important** (for me, anyway): a while back, I read a fic where Tony and Bruce were in the lab, and then an Earthquake(?) hit. The Hulk popped out, and Tony tried to send him away (to safety), but of course he stayed, and later on said 'Hulk not stupid', or something like that. Anybody know what I'm talking about? I've looked all over the place, and can't find it.

* * *

There was a moment during which Tony truly believed his living room was about to be remodeled.

* * *

Bruce liked to think that he and Tony had hit it off immediately. He liked to think that, and Tony gave him no reason to assume otherwise, but the thought was entirely irrational. Tony was suspicious of everyone he met, instantly despised anyone who he perceived as a threat to either his boundaries or to his friends, and, while he made a point to throw himself into danger whenever he could, fought to keep those close to him from that risk.

And Bruce was definitely a risk. Every second Pepper spent with him (whether in awkward silence or even-more-awkward conversation) was a danger to her. But Tony seemed to shrug the incredibly real possibility of her death off, even though he wouldn't let her in a room with Fury alone if he had the choice. And Fury was the good guy (the incredibly shady good guy, yeah, but the good guy nonetheless). Bruce...the other guy? They weren't. They were the monsters parents warned their children about.

But Tony ignored that, and treated him as if he were no more dangerous than a regular human being. Hell, he treated him as if he were _less_ dangerous than a regular human being. He pestered the scientist until he promised to stay in his fixed tower (the tower that _he_ broke), and then gave him a personal room with a lock that could even keep him out.

He often left when Pepper was over, frequently in a temper tantrum that could make Veruca Salt feel inferior. And he wouldn't glance back, or say, "You might wanna go," or anything. There was trust. The type of unconditional trust Bruce hadn't had since...since...ever.

As a result of the incredible treatment he'd been given, their friendship couldn't waver. Even the self-destructive part of him that demanded he leave this all behind before Tony found out what a monster he was was affected. It was still there, hovering in insecurity and fear, but it was considerably less potent than it ever had been before Tony. So, while it was irrational, Tony seemed to have given him the trust he didn't deserve instantly.

It was insane. Definitely insane. But Bruce was grateful beyond what words could say, and even the Hulk had grown fond of the eccentric and off-the-rocker-nuts engineer.

So, when Tony opened the door (neck slightly pink in that way that Bruce had learned meant he had had more than his fair share of alcohol), Bruce felt a familiar rumble rack its way through his body. Because Tony wasn't alone, and he wasn't with Pepper.

"Tony." He spoke calmly, even as his fists tensed in preparation for battle. "What is Loki doing on your couch?" Tony's brows rose, then settled back down in a surprised sort of furrow. He then glanced over his shoulder, as if he hadn't noticed the god of mischief lounging on his sofa. He finally settled on an answer.

"Drinking." His lips quirked, the distinct facial hair jerking at the action. "Well, I've been doing most of the drinking, actually. I wanna thank you right off the bat for not Jolly-Green-Giant-ing it up, though, because I really appreciate that; I really do. This is a new couch. I actually destroyed my living room last year, and while I have the money, I don't want to go furniture shopping with Pepper again." Bruce inspected his friend's face while he rambled on, feeling slight relief as he caught a glimpse of brown eyes. The world could barely handle a right-in-his-mind Tony Stark. A mind-controlled one would be impossible.

"Tony, stop. Are you okay?" Loki sat forward slightly, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not totally, Bruce," Tony responded, voice considerably tighter. "I've been having the worst fucking night- excluding the last time Loki visited- and really could have used you here, like, ten minutes ago."

"What are you doing here?" Bruce demanded, turning from Tony now that he was sure he wasn't compromised or injured. Loki raised an eyebrow, unaffected. Bruce was a little put-out. He'd hoped the god would at least be a little intimidated, considering what the Hulk had done to him. "Answer."

"I enjoy your scary-manly voice, you know that," Tony interrupted, stepping back into his line of vision. He always tried to show himself when Bruce was exhibiting signs of agitation. His presence tended to calm the other guy down. "But I don't think Loki is here to be psycho tonight, so-"

"Tony, it's _Loki_." Bruce emphasized. Tony was normally at least a little rational, but if Loki had gotten him drunk, then who knew what was going to happen? The guy could handle his liquor, but if he were trying to defend Loki- the man who had nearly destroyed Manhattan (and tried to enslave the whole damn world)- then something was definitely wrong with him.

"Yes, Bruce, it is. And, yeah, he did have a nefarious reason for visiting, but we're over that."

"I was unaware the 'reason' was 'nefarious'." Loki snuffed, crossing his arms in minor annoyance.

"Stealing is still nefarious." Tony replied, half-amused and half-frustrated. "And if you don't mind, I'm playing your defense, so quit whining about diction."

"Tony, I want an explanation. And get behind me." Loki scoffed, smoothly standing.

"As if he would be any safer behind you when you are in this pitiful form."

"Okay," Tony began, brows furrowing just a little more. "Let's not annoy Bruce. I just said how much I love this couch." Though Tony showed no fear of Hulk, he often used the possibility of the creature to diffuse situations. In this particular instance, it didn't work.

"If he wishes to instigate violence, I will not deny him." Loki snarled, and suddenly he wasn't acting like some sly house-guest. Defying logic (as he always seemed to do), he was inexplicably clutching a long staff, a vicious, jagged weapon that seemed to radiate something unearthly. Bruce's stomach rumbled as if he were hungry, but the familiar pangs were not due to skipping lunch (although he had; he was hardly better than Tony at remembering biological requirements when he was focused).

"Um." Tony blinked owlishly, looking as if he didn't quite know what to do. Bruce had lived with him for a few months in New York, and had rarely seen that expression. He had no access to a suit, was drunk, and in a room with two time-bombs. Bruce didn't blame him for not being too happy.

"Tony, get behind me." He growled, feeling the ripples of power beneath his skin. Tony was being threatened, and the Other Guy didn't like that.

"Sorry, I'm a leader, not a follower." Tony replied, moving his body so that he was between the two monsters.

"That..." Loki's face was suddenly unreadable, a strange mix of even stranger emotions. "...was a poor choice."

It happened before Bruce could even blink. The god's lanky arms were suddenly around Tony's waist, and the engineer was pulled backwards against his chest. The sharp point of the staff pressed against his temple, digging into the soft skin. Bruce nearly staggered at the rage that swept through him, blinking against his tunneling vision. In a delicate situation, Bruce Banner was more helpful than the Hulk.

"Don't you feel useless?" Loki teased, his light tone belying his no-doubt insidious intentions. Tony blinked, then struggled feebly in the god's hold. "Oh, don't insult me." Loki muttered to him, tightening his grip just slightly. Tony attempted to send a squat glare in his direction, but couldn't turn his neck to allow its intended recipient to see it.

"If you keep this up, I won't be inviting you back."

"I never needed an invitation." Loki growled, pressing the staff with a bit more force. "And might I suggest silence? I believe your ally is attempting to calm himself, and your speaking would surely make the task difficult."

"Brucie can handle me." Tony responded, and there was a touch of pride there. "And you're not going to kill me, anyway, so just let go."

"The variables have changed." Loki told him, eyes flashing at Bruce, who was standing perfectly still, his blood still rushing. Fists clenched, and teeth half-gritted, the doctor growled,

"Let him go."

"Oh, please, as if I would listen to you," Loki hissed, and there was amusement there. "-what reason is there that I should? At the moment, you're nothing but an inferior mortal. And, if you should transform into that ghastly beast, you will only succeed in killing Stark. You're useless- utterly useless, and I will murder him right here, and there is nothing that you can do."

* * *

There were times when Loki questioned his own sanity. He tried to ignore the thoughts, however, as they led down dark avenues that he didn't want to explore, or think about, or even recall existed. At the moment, however, as he amused himself by goading a creature that had defeated him on That Day, he seriously wondered whether he were as intelligent as he believed himself to be.

It wasn't as if he were going to kill Stark. That much was obvious in his own brain, and it _had_ seemed obvious to the engineer. Now, though, there was doubt, and Stark was still in his grip, stiff but cautious. But there was something terribly entertaining about lying, and watching creatures frustrate themselves with simple deceit.

"Bruce, just go and get the other Avengers-" Tony instructed, and Loki immediately shifted his position so that the staff was just in front of his exposed throat.

"A pointless exercise. Your corpse would be cooling by the time they arrived."

"They're pretty fast," Tony retorted, tense in his grip. But still defiant, of course, because fear didn't bring him down as it brought down others. "-and killing me won't put them in the greatest mood." Loki's thumb pressed against the engineer's carotid, and he enjoyed knowing that his kindness to Stark (and yes, it _was_ kindness, he was able to admit that, even if he weren't sure why he had chosen to be kind) had not depleted the man of intelligent fear. His pulse raced beneath the digit, and Loki pressed the staff against the skin.

His original plan had failed due to unexpected circumstances, but he had always been flexible. As his eyes sidled up to meet the doctor's, he felt a new scheme arrange itself.

"Your decision, Banner," he hissed. "-Would you really place your trust in your fellow Avengers?"

* * *

Bruce trusted the Avengers. He did. He trusted them with his life on a daily basis, hung out with them, enjoyed their company. But this was Tony, and it was getting hard to think rationally. The Hulk was about ready to rip free of his fleshy prison. Because if there were one thing the Hulk liked more than smashing? It was Tony.

And Tony was in definite danger.

_puny god hurt metal man_

Bruce clenched his eyes shut. He only heard the Hulk's voice when he was close to transforming, or if he were particularly outraged. At the moment, he figured it was a little bit of both.

"Just let him go," he hissed. "If it comes to it, the Other Guy won't be aiming for Tony."

"I highly doubt the creature is capable of discerning allies from foes," Loki denied, but Tony squirmed in his hold.

"Actually, I'm a favorite of his. I'll probably get a hug while he caves your skull in. He's touchy-feely, y'know?" Loki paused, as if actually considering. Tony rushed into his chance, and Bruce figured it was a mixture of his usual recklessness and and his current (although, technically, that was usual, too) inebriation. "But he's a big softie, and he'll forgive you if you just, y'know, don't go on a killing spree."

The Hulk growled his disagreement, but Bruce didn't let the feeling show. He didn't really agree either, but Loki letting Tony go was the best outcome possible.

"I highly doubt the murder of one man constitutes as a 'spree'."

"Well, it depends if that one guy is Tony Stark. I'm counted as a few people, on account of my brilliance."

"Is that so?" Clipped tones. Plan A (was this really the best plan? _Jesus_) was failing.

"I'm kind of a big deal," Tony agreed solemnly, and Bruce recognized it as a quote from the movie Clint had made them watch when he'd visited. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. It wasn't as if Loki were in any way versed in Earth culture; that was just going to get him riled up.

"Are you?" Loki humored him, but there was less venom in his expression than Bruce was used to. He narrowed his eyes, feeling his pulse race at the momentary distraction

_puny god hurt metal man metal man in danger METAL MAN IN DANGER_

until he managed to calm it with a thick swallow. He approached slowly, raising his hands.

"According to Tony," he began, because he had to trust Tony. He didn't have a choice. Maybe the Hulk could recognize that he wasn't the threat, that he wasn't an enemy (he _had_ always favored the engineer), but mistakes happened. He couldn't risk it,

_hulk not hurt metal man hulk want HELP_

no matter how much his body was urging him to lose control. "-you aren't here to cause any trouble. Unfortunately, logic seems to be working against him."

"That's never stopped me before." Tony offered up, but the staff drew half-a-centimeter closer to his throat, and he instinctively quieted. Bruce was silently relieved that there was some semblance of self-preservation in his friend.

"Stark is not in his right mind." Loki announced, revealing nothing in the statement. Bruce nodded, but chose to ignore it.

"If you really didn't come to kill him, I need you to prove it. Put down the staff."

"I see no reason to comply with your demands. I have Stark, and therefore have the greater leverage." As if to prove his point, he actually pressed the sharp edge of the staff

_metal man bleeding metal man hurt_

against Tony's throat. A thin line of red came to life as he released the pressure.

* * *

Tony's brow was slick with cold sweat, and he carefully remained still as the danger went back to Threat Level: Orange. Loki was officially insane again, and, yeah, Bruce didn't look much better. He had questions he could pose, to stall (until what? Bruce got back under control? Yay, they'd be at a stale-mate again), such as 'Why are you so eager to kill me right after you saved my life?' or 'Why are you so set on being a dick?'. But his mouth was dry. It had been a while since the last time he'd been a hostage, and, to be quite frank, it was bringing back some not-so-great memories.

He pushed them away from the forefront, focusing on Bruce and his green-tinged eyes.

"Hey, Bruce, not dead, not dying, still capable of talking, and everything." Loki stiffened as he spoke, obviously annoyed, but Tony figured 'fuck him', because _he_ wasn't the one being held hostage. "Stay with me, big guy." Or, rather, stay _away_ big guy. Bruce nodded shakily.

"I'm okay." A pause, then, more confident: "I'm okay."

"Glad to hear it." Tony thought for a moment, then figured he should do the logical thing (playing the part of Spock for the first time in...well, ever? He was more of a truthiness kinda guy, focusing on gut instincts rather than what sane people would do). "Contact the Avengers. I'm good here." Bruce quirked a skeptical eyebrow, but he couldn't quite pull off the casual pose when his eyes looked so tormented.

"I'm not leaving you here, Tony."

"I'm good," Tony assured him, struggling minutely against the hold (but failing terribly, and maybe he should start lifting weights or something, because, _geez_). "I can be responsible."

Predictably, fate (in the form of a teenage-delivery-boy) chose that moment to ring the doorbell. Bruce's face lit up (probably figuring there were only so many people that could show up at Tony's house this time of night, and that the majority of them were able to fight), and he backed toward the door.

"You may answer it," Loki told him, his amused smirk betraying his bored tone. Bruce, confused but relieved, ripped the door open. He turned to Tony, and there was disapproval there.

"Tell me you ordered before he got here."

"Um, you guys okay?" The teen questioned, curiosity spurring him to peer inside. Bruce ignored him for the moment, glaring as Tony squirmed (now less out of fear of bodily harm, and more because, yeah, he was an idiot. But Loki hadn't seemed to be that much of a threat- he'd never even had pizza! But he doubted Bruce would see it his way).

"In a different timeline, I probably ordered before he showed up," he offered, hoping the sci-fi fan in Bruce would rise to the bait. Predictably (probably because it was a dumb-ass plan- he had a scepter to his neck, and he was bleeding, and feeling a little emasculated because he couldn't get out of a really_ simple_ hold, and, yeah, he might have been a _little_ drunk. So, really, it wasn't his fault that his plan wasn't up to par with his usual intellect, damn it), Bruce wasn't swayed.

"Wait, there are other timelines-?" Bruce slammed the door on the perplexed delivery boy (and Tony sincerely hoped this wouldn't get him blacklisted from that pizzeria, because, _really_, this was the first time he hadn't paid). But he honestly had other things to worry about, because Bruce was more than disapproving.

He was _angry_.

"Did you have a plan for when Jekyll came out?" Tony hissed, frowning as the frame of his friend began to stretch. "Because he's pissed at _me_, and I'm not sure the favoritism carries through when I'm the one he's mad at."

"And why should such a thing concern me?" Loki responded airily, and Tony remembered that the half-sane Loki he wasn't completely terrified of had left the building. Shit. Hell of a time for the cat-brain to re-assert itself.

"Because it's hard to visit a house that's demolished." A strangled roar erupted from the heaving creature in front of them. Tony had always liked the Hulk. Bruce maintained that he was a brainless monster, but Tony had never really gotten that vibe. Maybe that was because his first meeting with the guy had ended with his life being saved, but whatever. At the moment, though, the Hulk seemed less cuddly.

"Metal Man!" He exclaimed, green eyes flashing onto Loki. "Puny God Hurt Metal Man."

"Or maybe the favoritism is stronger than I thought." Tony remarked with no small pleasure. He was (just a little bit) used to people turning on him on a dime. Money bought a lot of things, but he couldn't quite afford loyalty. And when people got mad at him, they usually stayed mad until he pacified them with wacky new toys or shopping sprees. It wasn't as if he'd expected Bruce to murder him for being irresponsible (definitely not, no, that'd probably mean he had trust issues, and that's just _impossible_), but that he didn't throw a single punch in his direction was nice. He couldn't help the grin.

"Unfortunately, the beast is not so intelligent that you'll be spared when it attempts to pulverize me." Before Tony could indignantly defend his friend, Loki jerked him to the side, effectively cutting off his air-supply for a solid few seconds. Hulk stampeded toward where they'd been (just Loki, technically; Tony was in the way is all), roaring himself silly. Loki tapped his head down, mouth directly beside Tony's ear. "If you'd like to make a deal, I suggest doing so soon. I've been told by a reliable source that mortals tend to die."

"Just let me go and then you can get smashed yourself." Tony grunted, writhing in the grip that refused to lessen. At least a few push-ups a day, or _something_. This was really just embarrassing.

"I can bring you to safety should you accept." Tony really wasn't even going to consider it. He wasn't. He knew Hulk wasn't after him, knew that Loki would murder him the second he could (or manipulate him somehow, because that must've been what he was doing before they were interrupted), and he knew that death would probably be preferable to whatever messed-up deal Loki was proposing.

But then his TV was ripped from the wall, and it was spiralling down at them like a thin, rectangular $4,000 football.

"Okay-"

* * *

He'd closed his eyes to avoid facing his flat-screen death, but it never came. He opened them reluctantly once his mind grasped what had happened.

"Shit."

"You're presumably feeling unwell. Teleportation is generally uncomfortable for mortals." And that was the understatement of the fucking century, because his stomach was churning, and his face was burning, and he felt as if his buzz had been replaced with a disproportionate hangover. He grunted out something of an agreement, before leaning forward to painfully dry-heave. Loki watched, unimpressed, then stalked to the other end of the room.

The room, Tony noted, that wasn't his living room at all, but rather a large (thoroughly underwhelming) warehouse.

"Do you realize how cliched warehouses are for kidnappings?" He rasped, uneasy stomach sinking at the word. It wasn't as if he hadn't been in danger before, but having been physically removed from his home was a fresh level of hell. He wasn't a fan of kidnappings in general, anyway.

"It suits my purposes," Loki replied, turning as he noticed Tony wasn't trying to ditch his lungs anymore. "-and you were not kidnapped. You agreed to my deal."

"I don't remember signing a contract," Tony replied, straightening so that he wouldn't appear _that_ pathetic.

"A verbal agreement," Loki told him firmly. "If you should choose to renege on your portion of the agreement, I may have to disregard the safety I have promised you." Tony chose not to acknowledge the fear that instinctively leapt up.

"So I'm safe for now?" Loki nodded.

"So long as you uphold your share of the compact, I shall see to it that no danger befalls you." He paused, considering. "For the duration of the deal, naturally." Tony paused, mulling over what he should be doing. Natasha and Clint were probably prepared in how to deal with gods kidnapping you under the pretense of a deal, but he'd skipped those classes.

"'Kay. Well. What'd I sign up for, exactly?" Loki's eyes gleamed with amusement, but he didn't let the expression mar his other features. He appeared to be perfectly professional.

"I have already asked for what you will be giving me."

"Now repeat the demand with less vague-ness," Tony instructed. "My brain isn't really cooperating at the moment." Loki swept towards him, and Tony involuntarily flinched when one hand clamped against his arc reactor. He should've switched shirts.

"The power source," he replied.

"Um, safety assured, remember?" Tony reminded him, nervousness hidden by snark.

"A new one." Loki told him, retracting slowly. "If you should fail, I will still have one. I suggest keeping this in mind." Tony paused, forcing down the remnants of nausea even as his stomach turned.

"If you're using it for a machine, I need to see the specs. I can't exactly design a power source if I don't know the required-"

"The same one you have." Loki told him firmly, before Tony could even continue. So much for getting the blueprints to know what kind of monstrosity Loki was creating.

"I need equipment," he finally said. As he listed off the ingredients for an Arc Reactor stew, he wondered if he would be able to sabotage the thing to blow while he wasn't in range. Either way, he wouldn't be handing over a fully-functioning arc reactor, so-called 'deal' or no. The only question was whether he would survive the successful implementation of his plan.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the metal as Loki vanished into thin air, promising to return soon with the required tools. And if he managed to live, what, exactly, was going to keep Loki from just ripping out the original?

He was getting really tired of uninvited guests.

* * *

Alright, there you go. Sorry for the (comparably) short chapter. The others were around 7,000 words, and this is just over a measly 4,000. But I wanted to put something out there, as it has been a long wait, and I kinda left it at an annoying cliff-hanger. Real life got in the way (hanging out with people before the semester started), but now that school is around again, I have things to avoid.


End file.
